No Dice
by RIP Kevin Trann
Summary: Castiel is a professor at the University of Connecticut during the 1940s, along with a special someone, Dean Winchester. College AU. Human!Cas. Fluffy Destiel. Please R&R! *Cover image is not mine*


_Okay, so this is the fic I wrote for my April blog of the month winner, mostly-misha! (If you have a tumblr, go give him a follow! He's awesome!)_

_I had to do some research for this fic, but I think it was worth it. (I hate research.). I used some of the slang they used to use during the time period, and I had to give Dean a new car.. But don't worry, it's still a Chevy model. (: _

_Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

Early January, 1946

.

.

.

.

It was the ninth of the month, a cold Friday night, colder than it had been recently. A good night to stay inside with a mug of hot tea wrapped in a warm blanket watching a new episode of the new game show Campus Hoopla. But no matter how nice that sounded, and oh, did it sound good; it just wasn't possible. There were too many written papers left to read through and grade. Exactly one hundred and three, if precise numbers were given. It was going to be a long weekend.

Castiel had his head in his left hand with his elbow on his oak desk, with his right hand drumming the eraser end of a red pencil on its glossy surface. All he could do was stare at the stack of papers in front of him. He had spent the last few hours doing nothing but grading. He was tired. There were so many students taking his class, it was hard to keep track of them all. And sometimes he forgot how many people he actually taught.

He was a professor at the University of Connecticut, teaching Creative Writing. He had been doing it successfully for almost six years, with one of the highest student success rates in the school. Don't get him wrong, he loved his job, but sometimes he just wanted a break.

On occasion he would tag along with some friends and watch them go on a bender, staying sober enough to drive them all home, but more often not. Well, for him, anyway. He always had something to do for work. When he signed up for the spot, he hadn't anticipated that there would be this much work, but he had thought wrong.

He didn't dislike it, though. He was very fond of everything he did. It had almost become a routine. Students would come up to him after class and ask for help, tips, or why they got a certain grade on this one assignment, sometimes all three. He just went with it, answering any and all questions they had about anything at all.

Sometimes they would come to his office and talk about non-class related things, just because they needed someone to talk to and he would listen. It always happened, almost fifteen times a week.

Sometimes, like now, he would push his papers aside and take out a clean few for himself. Writing his own personal work always managed to relax him, he saw it as a good stress reliever. Castiel usually told his students to write fantasy stories, or to create an idea for a comedy or game show from their imaginations, things along that line.

But when he wrote, he liked to write about the future; about what he thought it may be like. He loved to test his writing abilities. He enjoyed seeing his thoughts spread out on paper, just waiting for a pair of eager eyes to get a glimpse at them.

The look of awe he always found washed all over their faces brought a big smile to his face. After a few small conversations they would leave compliments to him as well as his writing. He looked at his papers one more time before sighing, and listened to the clock tick on his wall.

It didn't take all that long to grow tired of the silence of his office, being filled with nothing but the clock ticking and his pencil tapping. He needed to stop for the day. He reorganized all his papers and pushed them aside, then stood to retrieve his trench coat.

He may have called it a day, but he wasn't quite ready to go home yet. Because at home there was always something work related to get stressed over, no matter how late or early it was. He really didn't need that at the moment. What he needed was a drink.

The first place that came to mind was this little place called The Roadhouse. It wasn't very large, but it was where he had always gone and he loved it; he couldn't see himself going anywhere else. He shrugged on his his long, tan, slightly worn trench coat on and stepped into the hall and headed for the parking lot. But on the way there, he decided it wasn't too far, maybe a block or two, so he made the decision to walk.

He stepped outside and the cold bit him, almost right through his coat. It was dark - a definite black color - and hard to see. The wind was blowing and it had started to snow again. He looked up at the dark clouds in the sky, his teeth chattering, and just watched for a moment as the snowflakes tumbled and twisted to the ground and stuck there, as well as in Castiel's hair, eyelashes, coat, anything it could get a hold of.

He tugged his trench coat tighter around himself and leaned into the wind. It wasn't the worst snow he had seen. Not by far. He remembered this one snowstorm that happened around twelve years ago, in nineteen thirty four. It had almost all the buildings buried in several feet of snow. No one could go anywhere for days, and eventually weeks. The mayor had others come help handle the snow so people could get food and clothing, but even that took days. He had been eighteen at the time, so he was there when it happened.

The street was empty, Castiel being the only person to dare walk in the cold. The air turned to mist in front of him as he breathed out, trudging down the sidewalk. He looked to his right, where he made eye contact with a small calico cat. It stared at him as he walked, and seeing a bit of warmth in a cold atmosphere made him smile.

Once the animal felt he was too close, it scampered off. But The Roadhouse was just down the sidewalk, so he didn't mind. He could see through the windows, and it seemed that a large number of people got stuck inside, due to the storm. They were all probably thinking of waiting it out and seeing if it would calm down before they headed home.

He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and blew in them as he turned onto the sidewalk of the bar. He had forgotten his gloves in his car, so his hands were a bit cold. Castiel pulled the door open dispute the wind's protesting, and stepped inside, immediately enveloped by heat. He sighed with a smile and made his way over to his usual spot up at the bar. He sat down with his arms draped over the counter and waited for the bar tender.

"Well, hot diggity dog! Look who the storm brought in!" Exclaimed one of the bartenders, Jo, when she saw him. She pardoned herself from the others at the bar and quickly made her way over. She was all smiles tonight. "What's got you walking through a storm like this?"

Cas chuckled. "Oh, you know. Same old, same old."

"Awe, come on now, Cas, it can't be that bad." Jo said, leaning on the counter.

"It is when you've done nothing but stare a papers for the last few hours. It wasn't too far, so no need to worry. How are you, Jo?" The question seemed to brighten her up even more.

"I'm just dandy, thank you for asking."

"And how's Ash?"

"Oh, same old swigger. Doesn't get up and do jack around here anymore. Wouldn't be at all surprised if he was sauced right now. I don't know why mama hasn't kicked him out yet."

"Well, who knows what goes on in a mother's mind." Cas said with a smile.

"This is true." Jo agreed. "How are Gabriel and Balthazar doing?"

"Oh, I believe they're doing just fine. Balthazar got a girl recently and Gabriel started a little toy store. It's a big hit down where he is, apparently. He said it's like pennies from heaven."

"Well that's good to hear! I hope to get out of here soon. I almost have enough money saved to go to college. But until then, this is gravy for me." Jo said. "But I'm pretty sure you're not here to talk to me. What'll you have?"

"I don't mind talking to you at all. But I'll take some whiskey." Cas replied.

"Rocked?"

"No. Straight up."

"All right. Be out in a couple." She sauntered off to get Cas' drink and he sighed. He stared at his hands and thought. He liked Jo. She and her family had been there for him longer than he could remember. Jo and her mother, Ellen, were surprised Ash even left their house to see him. All three of them knew that Ash really liked spending time with him if he was willing to do that.

And above all, the Harvelles really enjoyed his writing as well. Several of his short stories resided in their house, they had nagged him until Cas finally let them have his work. He got half price drinks for the next week after that.

Jo made her way back over and set down Cas' drink and a bottle to refill it, flashing him a quick smile. "There you are. Wish I could stay and talk some more, but I've got some other customers to tend to. You have a good night, Cas. Keep warm and stay safe; just in case I don't see you again tonight." She patted the counter once and she was gone.

He lifted his drink and tilted his head back, downing the whiskey in a single go. Once he set the shot glass back on the counter, he blinked a couple times as the familiar burn made its way down his throat. Cas refilled his glass and turned around in his chair. He just sat there people watching as he drank several more shots of whiskey. He asked one of the other bartenders, one whom he did not know, for some water to balance out the alcohol levels. He drank half of the mug that was brought to him before he filled his glass again.

"So, you trying to get sauced or are you just trying to deflate?" Someone said from behind him, just as he was about to drink what was in his glass. Cas knew that voice anywhere. Only one man could possess that voice; that deep but smooth voice that always made him shiver, and he always hoped that he didn't notice.

He turned in his chair and his blue eyes met piercing green ones. Dean Winchester. Another professor at the University of Connecticut, teaching Medieval Literature and Medieval Studies. Fairly close to his department, but different ends of the literature building.

He had dirty blond hair, which was slicked back. He wore a crisp black suit with a red tie and newly polished shoes. He was maybe six foot one, just a couple inches taller than himself, had an array of freckles across his nose and cheekbones, and a crooked smile that Cas loved. Sometimes he thought he loved it too much.

"Hello, Dean." Cas said. "I'm just settling down after a night of grading papers. Nothing new." Cas emptied his glass and refilled it, Dean watching his every move while taking the empty seat next to him.

"Ah, well. No harm in asking. What do you say you give me a go at that, huh?" Dean asked, nodding to the bottle of whiskey that was slowly being drunk dry. Cas shrugged and slid it across the counter into Dean's hand. Cas watched him as he brought the bottle to his lips, tongue ghosting over the rim, and tipped his head back. He took a good long swig before he set it back down and slid it back to Cas.

Cas knew he watched Dean often, even though he knows he shouldn't. People like him weren't welcome. It's why he kept to himself a lot of the time. He'd been called a queer out in public too many times for his liking.

He tried to ignore it, what he felt, but sooner or later they always found their way into his head. People into both women and men weren't disowned as he was, but they chose to ignore it and pretend they were normal. Cas had just about given up trying to pursue any kind of relationship. That was, until Dean came along.

Dean came to visit him very often, and they talked just about every day, since they met four years prior. Dean knew him, and Cas knew Dean. They just about talked about everything, and because of that he knew Cas had a thing for him, and Dean had a thing for Cas. But with how things were, they've never been able to do anything about it.

There have been a few brief times where they've been alone long enough to do anything. Sure, they have kissed a few times, and there had been times where one has gone over to the other's home and they ate together or watched whatever was on his old television on the couch and ended up cuddling, or both. But it rarely ever happened, because they were both crowded with their work and the people that surrounded them were always watching.

"How long have you been here?" Dean asked him.

"Maybe ten minutes. Possibly fifteen, I'm not completely sure. Why do you ask?" Cas replied.

Dean threw his hands up in defense. "Just trying to make small talk, man. Didn't know I shouldn't ask."

"No, no it's fine." Cas sighed. "I've just had a long day." Dean watched him as he had another drink, his brows creased in thought. There was silence between them for a few minutes, and when Cas looked over, Dean was still watching him. "What?"

"Nothing." He said thoughtfully. "You just look pretty beat. You look like you really need to get out of here. Away from all these people." He leaned a little closer and kept his gaze on Cas waiting for an answer.

He let out a breathy laugh. "Maybe. But there never seems to be time to do that. When I'm not doing things for work there's always personal issues that need to be sorted out." Dean pursed his lips and looked away from Cas, and looked at his hands instead.

After what seemed like forever, which was only a few moments, Dean leaned even closer and lowered his voice. "Come on, let's blow this place." He said, gesturing towards the door. "We'll go to my place. Watch something. We haven't done that in a while. There's no classes tomorrow, and neither of us are required to be anywhere." Cas looked at the bottle of whiskey in front of him and thought. It did sound nice. It had been several months since they had done anything like that. He wanted to, he did, but he just couldn't.

"Dean." He sighed. "I can't. It's already late, and I need to get home. I still have papers to grade so I need to be up early." He looked at Dean apologetically, but he looked like he was still thinking.

"It's just for a little while. You need this. Let me do something for you."

"Dean. . ."

"You know I won't take no for an answer, Cas." They stared at one another until Cas sighed. Dean was right. He knew no wasn't an option in his book. Not when it came to things like this.

"All right. One hour, at most." As soon as he said it, Dean broke into a grin and slid out of his seat to get his coat from the hooks on the wall. Cas had one last drink and a sip of water then followed Dean, and they walked out together.

It had gotten colder since Cas had gone inside. But the car lot wasn't too far, so it didn't take them long to get to Dean's car, a nineteen forty Chevy Clipper. Cas couldn't help but smile at the face Dean made at all the snow on the front window and the hood. He helped brush off as much as they could get and they plopped into the car.

The drive was quiet, but not awkward. The silence was nice sometimes, like now. The only noise being the hum of the car engine. Dean kept stealing glances at him with a corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. Occasionally he would look at him at the same time, and they would both look away within a few seconds, Cas' cheeks filling with warmth.

They reached Dean's small house after almost fifteen minutes of driving. Once they managed to clear the snow from in front of the door, they quickly went inside where it was warm. Dean shrugged off his coat and suit jacket and offered to take Cas' trench coat and suit jacket. He thanked him and Dean took both of their garments and laid them on the back of his couch.

Cas went over and looked out the large window and crossed his arms. Dean watched him a moment before walking over to stand behind him. "What's on your mind, Cas?" Dean said quietly. He didn't respond immediately, but when he did he shook his head.

"It's nothing, Dean. You have nothing to worry about."

"Don't do this to me. What's eating you?"

"Really, it's nothing. . I've just been very busy with my lecture plans and grading all my students' papers, I haven't had any time to relax or let loose. It's nothing to get worked up about. I'm just tired."

"Well," Dean started, snaking his arms around Cas' waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. "That's why you're here. To relax a little." He turned his head and placed a kiss just under his ear, and then another one at the top of his jawline.

Cas sighed. "Dean."

"Hmm?"

"Are you trying to make a pass on me again?"

Dean lifted his head and looked at Cas. "Maybe."

"I'm sorry, Dean, but. . . No dice. Not today." Cas gently removed Dean's arms and went to sit on the couch. Dean watched him as he went.

"No dice? Cas, that's a lie. You say that every time. Each time we try to spend time with one another lately you say the same thing."

"What if someone were to see us?"

"We're in my house, Cas. No one will see. Why should that bother you anyway?"

"I. . I don't know."

"You sure stress is the only thing bothering you?" Dean said as he sat on the couch next to Cas.

"Yes, I'm sure." He replied. Dean then reached over and place a hand on Cas' knee and gave a reassuring squeeze, and he saw the corner of his mouth turn up. Another short silence passed before either of them moved, but when they did, Dean was first. He scooted a little closer to Cas and gently placed his hand on his chin, turning the man's face to look at him. Dean leaned in, their lips just barley touching, seeing if Cas would do anything. And he did. He ended up being the one to close the little bit of space separating them.

They stayed like that for a while; Dean's hand on his chin and Cas' arms at his side. Then Cas moved his hands to the back of Dean's neck, and Dean moved his hand to caress Cas' face while his other arm moved to his waist to pull him closer. When Dean deepened the kiss, Cas hummed into his mouth and smiled. This is one of the reasons Cas liked Dean. He was always so concerned about him, even when he didn't need to be. The stress would pass, they both knew that, but he was concerned anyway.

Dean was all gentleness to him, he always had been. The little things he did always made the most impact. Like when Dean would sometimes bring him coffee in the morning with little notes. Those were the best days. Days filled with little gestures were always the best ones.

Dean took Cas' bottom lip between his teeth and sucked lightly, which pulled a noise of pleasure from Cas. He could feel the corners of Dean's lips turn up, just barley. Cas parted his lips and Dean did the same, allowing him to slide his tongue inside to meet this own. Dean shifted his position and Cas felt himself being pressed back until his back was on the couch and Dean was on top of him.

They laid like that for a while, kissing and exploring one another with their tongues and light touches. They lost track of time, and when Dean finally broke away to check the time, it was almost twelve thirty in the morning. He looked back at Cas and gave him a quick kiss before he spoke. "It's almost twelve thirty. Why don't you just stay?" Dean's voice was just above a whisper.

"I don't know. ." Cas said.

"I know you have things to do, but it's late. I can drive you home in the morning to do whatever you need to do, and then I can take you to the university. I'll even help you with work however I can. Just stay the night. It won't hurt." Dean watched him with hopeful eyes as he thought. It was late, and he didn't really feel like going out into the cold at this time of night. He knew Dean would make sure he took care of whatever he needed to. He also knew that if Dean said he would help, he would help.

That was one of the things he loved most about Dean; he always came through, and he always kept his promises. Dean had done things for him that he wasn't sure he could ever repay him for. He made everything better when he was around. He made a cloudy day just a little bit brighter. That's exactly what Cas needed; a little more light in his life.

He loved his job, no matter how stressful it got. He loved his students, he loved this town, and he loved Dean. It wasn't hard admitting it to himself, but he wasn't ready to tell him. Not yet. He looked up into his green eyes, which looked dark in the dimly lit room, and a tiny smile played at his lips.

"Okay. I'll stay." He whispered. Dean smiled at that, and carefully stood up, pulling Cas with him. Dean pulled him closer and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Thank you." He whispered. "Let's go to bed." Cas nodded, and Dean took his hand and lead Cas to his bedroom. They didn't even bother with their normal nightly routines, they just changed into warm clothes, Cas borrowing Dean's, and climbed into the bed. Dean pulled Cas up against his chest and placed a kiss on the back of his neck. "Goodnight, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean." Cas said quietly. He didn't sleep for a while. He just listened to the sound of Dean's breathing, how it slowly evened out. Cas smiled a little and pulled Dean's arm a little higher up his waist. He eventually fell asleep to the sound of his breathing, and a small smile on his face.

* * *

_AN:_

_So, that's it. I really hope you guys liked it! I probably spent longer on this than I should have lol. Oh well, at least I got it finished! So yeah. Please let me know what you think in a review! Input is always awesome! And they make me happy! (: Thank you guys for reading!_


End file.
